Dopp Juice Archive

I’ve heard this term flying around lately. “We’re going to start a Web 2.0 venture.” “This is a Web 2.0 site.” After some research on a popular public knowledge base, it’s clear that there is no clear definition for Web 2.0. Just a feeling that people want to express in a techie-language way. The internet as we knew it five years ago (aka “Web 1.0”), was a collection of flat, unchanging html pages that shared information. You didn’t subcribe to them for constant news updates. You didn’t use them as networking tools. You we’re able to get work done on those pages. You just read what the sites had to say and surfed on. Now, that’s all changing. The internet as we know it today (aka “Web 2.0”) thrives on connections and constantly updated information. We reference and cross-reference. If site doesn’t update at least once a week, we forget about it. It’s a dinosaur. We want instant gratification and voices ringing in our ears from 20 million places. We want to internet to replace our desktop applications so everything can be stored in connection with everything else. We want what’s new today, and we want it for free (or least, for cheap). The web browser is the new workplace. So when you hear the words “Web 2.0,” don’t freak out and think you need to upgrade your internet service provider. The information superhighway isn’t rerouting you to another system. It’s just constantly under construction, and constantly offering new ways to do things. For a more complete “definition,” check out Danah Boyd‘s take on the mysterious phrase.

In eleven days, California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger will have the opportunity to sign or veto the “Religious Freedom and Civil Marriage Equality Act” (i.e. the latest push for gay marriage in the U.S.). I don’t take a stand in the political arena often, but for goodness sake, this bill was introduced without a court mandate and has survived the heavy debates of both the Assembly and Senate. That’s impressive. Clearly, California wants equal marriage rights for everyone. And clearly, Schwarzenegger wants to veto. Many of my friends are gay and hope to marry someday. I believe it’s cruel for the government to dictate who American citizens can and cannot marry. And when the entire voice of California speaks at once and calls for a change in law, I expect the governor to listen. Equality California is urging people to call the governor right away and voice how important it is for him to sign. My first thought was, “Okay! This is something I need to stand up for! I can do that!” My second thought was, “How do you call a governor?” So I did a little web research. Surprisingly few websites talk in general about how to contact your representatives, but a number of them give specific instructions for different issues. By piecing together the different instructions (and giving it a try myself), here’s what I came up with:How to Call Your Governor

1. First, find the phone number. The governor may have many offices, and there might be one near you. You can either call the main one or your local one, depending how where you think you’ll get better results.
2. Recognize that the office will probably be rude to you when you call, and you’ll need to insist that they write down your information and message anyway. It’s not personal, it’s politics.
3. Begin writing down what you plan to say. It should be brief and to-the-point. Start with your name, your city, and where you work (if applicable).
4. Write down what you want your governor to do, specifically. If it’s signing a bill, include the bill’s name, its identification number, and the major impact that bill will have.
5. Describe your personal reasons for demanding this action in the form of a brief but solid argument.
6. Insist that the governor gets the message.
7. Finish by thanking the message-taker for his or her time.
8. Now, practice that script out loud (so you don’t choke).
9. Pick up the phone and dial the number with your script safely at your side.
10. Get a busy signal.

I’ll try again later. Expect an update on how it goes.

I’m sitting in a public computer lab right now. Ten minutes ago, a cell phone rang and a woman answered it. While she was still in her intial greetings (“Oh, hi Sam!”), the woman beside me turned and announced, “I thought we weren’t supposed to use cell phones in here.” The woman on the cell phone, overhearing, made her way to the door as politely as possible. Just now, Ms. Critical’s cell phone rang. Loudly. She answered it, and apparently it was an emergency. In between “Oh, no!” and “Okay, just tell me what happened,” she must have realized her own hippocrisy. She quickly lowered her voice and rushed to the door. When she returned, her face was bright red, and she whispered “sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.” I think there’s a lesson here — at least for me. When you think you’re in the right, keep your mouth shut for at least another ten minutes.